Playground

We embrace now, beneath orange midnight pollution. Our concrete shadows have merged, as we anchor between convoluted plastic.To you I am a plaything? Lounging among swings and slides. Pressed for warmth and spread for appeal. But if that’s true, What am I doing here? Basking in your silence as an excuse for my own? I sulk with you, your pretty play thing, skinny in tights, Velcro shoes, your baby doll blue.Until this place seems familiar. Branches of entities unknown, cover the sky in a loose knit, melding into flighty ideals. Sex. Love. Maybe comfort? Last time I was here, I did not know of these. Nor do I now. Breaking plastic ties, I jump down and flee your mold, I swing.